


Hope It's A Good One!

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 01:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Scott celebrates his divorce-iversary at a science conference.
Relationships: Scott Lang/Darcy Lewis
Comments: 16
Kudos: 136





	Hope It's A Good One!

**Author's Note:**

> *I own nothing! 
> 
> Meet Ugly Prompt: I’m working at the cash and when I ask you how your day is going, you tell me that it’s the anniversary of [something horrible] and I don’t know what to do with that information so I accidentally blurt “well hope it’s a good one!” when saying goodbye  
> https://veronicabunchwrites.tumblr.com/post/180758255134

“Scott,” Hank Pym said. “I need you to focus. Go to conference room 134B and buy me an autographed copy of Tharp Niffendorfer’s book. Are you listening, Scott?” he prompted.

“I’m listening,” Scott said glumly. He was down. This was a bad time to be away from Cassie and his work buddies at X-Con, but Hank had asked. And Scott was a people pleaser.

“You are listening?” Hank said.

“Niffendorfer’s book. Conference room 134B. Autographed copy,” Scott parroted back.

“Excellent,” Hank said. “I am deputizing you for this very important job because it is absolutely crucial that I dismantle Harold Dickenson at this Q&A. The man cannot be allowed to continue in this way. He’s a menace.” To Scott’s surprise, Hank actually patted him on the knee. “You should feel relieved that you and Hopie are no longer together,” Hank added. “You’re incompatible. It’s a question of fundamentals. Hopie is fundamentally a serious individual. I blame myself--”

“You blame yourself?” Scott said, jaw actually dropping open.

“I raised her to be a serious-minded professional,” Hank mused. “It means she is incapable of finding the humor in your little shenanigans--”

“I thought it was the whole Captain America fight thing that made her dump me?” Scott interjected. Hank frowned. “Sorry, I know you don’t like me talking about it,” Scott said.

“We shall leave behind the unpleasant topic of your recent imprisonment and move forward on our individual destinies. Collaborative, but not enmeshed in emotional complexities,” Hank declared, standing up. “Room 134B, Scott.”

“Where are you going?” Scott asked.

“There is a microphone, am I going to the question line,” Hank said grandly. Scott watched as he joined the line of nervous-looking undergraduate students.

“Room 134B,” Scott whispered to himself. “Ah ha!” he said, spotting the bronze square that indicated the room number. He’d found it. A frail, vaguely Niffendorfer-ish-looking man was sitting at a laminated table, signing a stack of books. This was it. He got in the small line. There was a woman ahead of him in a knit cap, bopping around. Scott sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to bop. He missed being a guy who bopped. The woman in front of him was swaying a little. She shifted to the left, just as Niffendorfer gestured for the next person in line. Scott thought she would step forward, but she didn’t. Niffendorfer was staring ahead, looking supremely disgruntled. Scott didn’t want any recalcitrance on his part to impact Niffendorfer’s autographing skills. Hank would be upset. Scott circumnavigated the bopping girl and stepped up the table. “Hello,” he began politely, “Doctor Niffen--”

“Hey,” a voice said, poking Scott’s elbow. “No line cutting!” It was Bopping Girl. She was glaring at him behind her squared glasses.

“Ow,” Scott said. “Your finger is mean.”

“I was in line first,” she said.

“Sorry, I thought you were, uh, bopping?” Scott said.

“Bopping?” Niffendorfer said.

“What?” the girl said.

“Sorry, I just---I’m going to step back and wait on that autograph, doctor,” he told the man. “Sorry,” he told the girl. “I’m just having a really weird anni--you know what? Nevermind. You first.”

“Thank you,” she said. She got her autograph. But Scott was surprised when she lingered in the conference room, studying the art on the walls. Scott had gotten a very politely autographed book for Hank when the girl fell in step with him. “I appreciate your apology,” she told him. “Some people only do the ‘I’m sorry you’re offended’ apology, but you did a real one.” She proffered her hand. “Dr. Darcy Lewis.”

“Oh. Thank you?” Scott said uncertainly. “I wondered why you were hanging around. Like, does she realy enjoy conference room art or what?” 

“I do, actually,” the girl said. “Enjoy conference room art. And hotel art. And, um, local photographic exhibits in libraries.”

“Oh, God, I did it again,” Scott said. “I was inadvertently rude. I really don’t mean to do these things, I just--my girlfriend broke up with me and it’s the third anniversary of my divorce and that always gives me the sads and I just--” Scott gestured, waving his book.

“You celebrate the anniversary of your divorce?” she asked him.

“Yes, yes I do,” Scott said. “My name is Scott Lang, I run a security company and do consulting on engineering, but mostly, I celebrate my divorce-anniversary by eating all the Capt ‘n Crunch in the house.”

“Just Capt ‘n Crunch?” she said. “No Fruit Loops?”

“Fruit Loops was actually my ex-wife’s nickname for me,” Scott said. Dr. Darcy Lewis actually giggled.

“Well, um, have a great one,” she told him, turning a little pink. She was going to walk away, Scott thought, face falling. He’d scared off Bopping Girl! Just as abruptly, she wheeled around again, smiling. “Hold on! I forgot to give you a gift,” she said. She handed him a card.

“Your business card?” Scott said, grinning stupidly.

“With my email, my work phone, and, uh, my Twitter, which is a flawless blend of science and sarcasm,” she said. “Or so I’ve been told by famous scientist Jane Foster.”

“You should probably put that in a pinned tweet,” Scott said.

“I framed it and hung it in my lab after Jane fired me,” Darcy said.

“Fired you?” he said.

“I was her assistant and when I finished grad school, she kicked me out of the nest and made me apply for other jobs. She wanted me to carve my own path in astrophysics. Also, she totally invoked eminent domain on the Pop Tart collection.”

“There’s no legal recourse for eminent domain,” Scott said.

“No, there’s not,” Darcy said.

“She sounds tough,” Scott said.

“It’s a surprise because she’a very small person. What are your feelings on cheese fries?” she asked him suddenly.

“I--I like them?” Scott said. “I mean, you want your fries to stay crispy and your cheese to be warm, it’s a delicate balance.” Darcy nodded.

“I’m going to suggest that I pick you up and take you for cheese fries tonight--just for your anniversary as a friend--then you call me after an appropriate interval?” Darcy said.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Scott said. “What is an appropriate interval?”

“Somewhere between twenty minutes and twenty hours,” she said. “I’m pretty flexible.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
